After the Fact
by Cas di Angelo
Summary: It has been six years since Wendy came back from Neverland with the Lost Boys. She's written her three-part novel, and has somehow managed to evade love. Then one night at a ball, everything changes.


_There is nothing so difficult to marry as a novelist._

Wendy Moira Angela Darling couldn't quite get her aunt's words out of her head as she watched the swirling couples on the ballroom floor. It had been nearly six years since Neverland… She was eighteen, and most girls her age were already married. She'd occupied her time by publishing her dear novel in three parts about her adventures in Neverland, although it hadn't been quite the success she'd imagined.

Her parents had sent her to the ball in the hopes that she would meet some young bachelor who would overlook her love for writing and ask her to marry him. Wendy knew in her heart that wouldn't happen. Whenever a young man seemed interested, she merely had to mention her books and he would never look at her twice. For a moment Wendy wondered if she had ruined all her chances for starting a family.

Wendy was so caught up with watching the dancers that she didn't notice a tall youth walking slowly toward her. If she had seen him, she would have noticed the ardent way he was gazing at her, the terrified hesitancy in his step. She would have thought him familiar.

But she didn't notice his approach until he stopped and cleared his throat.

"Might I have this next dance?" He asked, extending a hand.

Wendy eyed his face, then his hand. Clearly he did not know what he was getting himself into. But she smiled graciously and said, "It would be a pleasure," Aunt Millicent had taught her well.

The young man led her out onto the floor where they smoothly joined the circling dancers.

"What is your name?" Wendy asked.

"What is _your_ name?" the young man smiled slyly.

Wendy narrowed her eyes a tiny bit. "Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

"Peter Whitmore."

Wendy blinked, but hid her surprise. The fact that this Peter Whitmore was repeating almost verbatim Wendy's first conversation with Peter Pan seemed strangely ironic. The fact that his first name was Peter made the first even more so. Now it was Wendy's turn to smile slyly.

"Where do you live Peter?"

Peter grinned. "Two streets down from here, just around the corner from the Morning Star Restaurant."

_That's not ironic at all,_ Wendy thought sarcastically. She knew the restaurant, and she and her brothers went there often for the delicious roast and potatoes.

Wendy was sorely tempted to continue on with her conversation from six years ago, but somehow she didn't think this Peter would find it amusing. It was, after all, the start of her novel.

"What about you? The Darlings are quite famous in my part of town," Peter said.

"How so?" Wendy asked. She hadn't realized they were 'famous'.

"Who else would have the heart to adopt all those boys off the street?" Peter asked. He nodded around the room, where Wendy could see each and every one of her brothers (save Michael) dancing and socializing.

"I adore my brothers," Wendy lifted her chin a little higher. "We have the most wonderful adventures."

"What sort of adventures?" Peter looked fairly curious.

"Fighting off pirates, searching for treasure," Wendy smiled as she thought of all their play-acting. "And I tell them stories all the time."

"That sounds perfectly wonderful," Peter said. "But I doubt it would even come close to the real thing."

"Oh, not even," Wendy said automatically. "There is nothing more thrilling than hearing your sword clash against that of an enemy pirate, or perhaps dancing with fairies…" she stopped and blushed, suddenly shy as she remembered that night in Neverland. She was long past tears whenever she thought of the way Peter Pan had claimed not to love her.

"Now where would a grown woman have had those sorts of adventures?" Peter asked.

"Neverland," Wendy answered. Peter smiled.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I've read your novel. It was most enthralling."

Wendy tilted her head slightly to the right. "You've read my novel?" she asked.

"All three parts," Peter's smile widened. "Are you going to write more?"

"If I have another grand adventure," Wendy said. "However, I think those ended a long time ago."

"Are you serious?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "Growing up is the grandest adventure of all. I myself didn't think so at first, but I'm rather enjoying being a man."

Wendy barely bit back a laugh. The way Peter was talking reminded her so much of Peter Pan. However, she hardly thought her Peter would enjoy growing up.

Peter's eyes softened. "You have the most lovely smile,"

Wendy ducked her eyes, blushing again. She heard Peter chuckle, and she raised her gaze to meet his.

"So you know I'm a novelist," Wendy said, changing the subject. "And yet you're still dancing with me?"

"Has something else happened before?" Peter asked, confused.

"Usually the gentleman excuses himself for some reason or another," Wendy said nonchalantly. "And they don't approach me for the rest of the night."

"Such a shame," Peter shook his head. "But then I guess I wouldn't be enjoying your company."

"I guess I should count myself lucky, then," Wendy laughed. "Because I don't think I've enjoyed a dance this much in a long time."

"What say you to making it a bit more enchanting?" Peter gained a soft sparkle in his light green eyes. "We could make believe we're dancing with fairies, just like you mentioned."

"You would play make believe with me?" Wendy raised a skeptical brow.

"Only if you accompany me to the garden just outside," Peter stepped back and offered his arm. "The windows are open, and we could still hear the music."

Wendy slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I would love that very much," she said. Together they walked around the edge of the ballroom floor, making their way to the double doors that led to the garden.

The night was slightly chilly, so nobody else had retreated to the dark greens of the garden. Golden light filtered out of the many-paned windows, and there were a few lamps lit in the garden. Overall, Wendy thought the small garden enchanting enough for fairies.

Peter turned to face her and bowed and Wendy, in spite of herself, curtsied just as she had in Neverland. She stopped herself from making comparisons between her Peter and Peter Whitmore, but there was no mistaking the eagerness in his twinkling eyes. Wendy kept her eyes on his, imagining a forest full of fairies surrounding them.

They waltzed in a slow circle, and Wendy felt as though she were floating. There was something vaguely familiar in Peter Whitmore's face, something that made Wendy feel as though she were back in Neverland—as though she'd never left.

I don't think either of them noticed how as they turned they were moving closer to each other, both of them lost in each other's eyes. Wendy was barely aware of moving her feet, but they must have been working because she was becoming dizzy from spinning.

"How is it," Wendy breathed. "That I feel I've known you before?"

The corner of Peter's mouth lifted. "Perhaps this is what one would call déjà vu?" He tilted his head downward and looked at their feet. Wendy couldn't help it; she looked down as well… and gasped.

They were floating a good foot off the ground, but as soon as Wendy saw the empty space they dropped.

"I'm sorry!" Wendy gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that!" she sat down on a garden bench and covered her face. She heard Peter sit beside her. "I honestly thought I couldn't do it anymore, but…" Wendy bit her words back, berating herself silently for babbling nonsense to Peter Whitmore.

"You're thoughts weren't happy enough," Peter said quietly.

"Which doesn't really—" she stared at Peter. "What do you mean?"

Peter smiled at her, the golden light from the ballroom reflecting in his eyes. "Your thoughts weren't happy enough. I admit I suffered the same for a while after going back, but I managed the flight here."

"Back—back to where?" Wendy's mouth hung slightly open as she studied Peter's face.

Peter leaned in, putting his mouth close to Wendy's ear. "Neverland," he said.

"Peter…" Wendy breathed. "Pan?"

Peter didn't answer, but he gave Wendy a smile that sent chills deep into her core. "I have something that you gave to me," he murmured. Only now did Wendy realize how close their faces were. "I'd like to return the favor," He closed his eyes and crossed what little distance was separating their lips.

Wendy was taken back to the day on the _Jolly Roger_, when she'd saved Peter's life by giving him a 'thimble'. His lips still as soft as she remembered them, tasted of some obscure jungle plant. Wendy leaned into the kiss, her hand fairly flying up to caress his neck. All too soon, however, Peter was pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers.

"I've missed you so," Wendy sighed.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about you," Peter said.

Wendy couldn't help it—she pressed her lips against Peter's, feeling a great longing in her chest. Her Peter had come to London… He'd grown up and become a man. Wendy didn't have to guess why as he deepened their kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist.

They broke apart, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Peter kissed the tender skin just below Wendy's jaw line.

"You once asked me what my feelings were," Peter whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear. "I apologize for the way I acted when you mentioned love. I didn't really know what it was, but I do now." He pulled back to match her gaze. "I know about love."

"What about it?" Wendy asked. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

"I know that I love you," Peter said.

"I love you too, Peter," Wendy's heart fluttered, and Peter leaned in to kiss her again.


End file.
